Achilles Heel
by childliketendencies
Summary: Injuries do not always have to be bad things... when Finn has an accident, Rachel comes to the rescue to save his summer. Short multi-chapter, Finchel centered
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own Glee. I just play around with its characters. A lot._

_A/N: Had to write something fluffy to keep myself from going nuts._

. . . . . .

**"Achilles Heel"**

"Ouch!"

The dull pain that had been keeping him company ever since the run had started had suddenly turned into a pins-and-needles kind of burning sensation in his foot. "Shit," he swore under his breath and winced, hoping that Rachel hadn't heard him - she'd given him an earful just the other day about his "disgraceful overindulgence in expletives", and he'd tried to keep the swearing down ever since.

Trying to ignore the pain in his foot, he fell into a slower jog that increased the distance between Rachel and him within seconds. But it only took those seconds for her to realise it. And then she slowed down so quickly that he'd caught up with her again before he'd even had the chance to keep his discomfort from showing on his face.

"What's wrong?" came her immediate question, her voice full of concern and slightly breathless from the exertion.

As she caught onto him with a tug on his shirt, he almost missed her cue to stop altogether as the brief touch sent a shiver down his spine. For a moment it competed against the pain in his foot, and then grew in intensity as he came to a stop right next to her and her hand returned to that same spot. The pain grew almost too dull to notice anymore now that he wasn't moving – and the heat from her hand was spreading in circles all over his own body.

He blushed.

Of all the embarrassing reactions his body sprung up on him, this one probably had to be the dumbest one. Hoping she hadn't seen it he bent over and rubbed his ankle, silently cursing his himself for his lack of control over… well, pretty much all parts of himself.

"Just a cramp," he mumbled, and then instantly forgot all about his embarrassment as he sucked in a loud breath when his fingers hit the spot right below the ankle bone. This wasn't a cramp – it seriously hurt!

"Finn?"

"Mmm… okay," he said, giving up on playing brave, and breathed out noisily, "no cramp, I think I tore a muscle or something."

She immediately knelt down by his side, right next to his foot, to take a closer look. But there wasn't anything to see – it didn't look swollen or anything, it just hurt whenever he moved it or touched it.

This close to her, he was momentarily distracted by the vanilla scent of her hair. It filled him with the irrational need to run his fingers through her hair. But then she put her own fingers right on that spot he'd touched before.

It felt like his foot was on fire, but not in a good way. He yelped. "Shit, don't do that!

She snatched back her hand as if she'd been stung, and stood up straight. Looking up, he saw her face tinged with alarm, a frown slowly forming on her brow.

"Sorry," she mumbled, as he straightened up, too. "Did this just happen now? Did you trip over something?"

He stared at her with unfocused eyes for a moment, unsure what to say. As much as he wanted to be honest with her, the truth was a bit embarrassing – but there really wasn't any way of dodging the fact that compared to her he was apparently badly out of shape and going running every morning for the past week had apparently been too much for his foot. Realising he'd been staring at her lips, he looked up to meet her eyes, and instantly he knew he couldn't lie to her. "Nope… it's been sort of building up. Hasn't been this bad before now, though."

She stared at him - _her eyes big and round and brown, the colour of chocolate, why do they remind me of her lips which I totally wished I could kiss just now, just have the feeling of her soft, warm lips brushing against mine, her hands on my shoulders, around my neck, running through my hair, over my scalp, this is totally inappropriate right now, I gotta stop, I mean really really stop thinking, not good! Not GOOD! _– and then all he could do was shut his eyes, squeeze them shut tightly to stop himself from getting lost in hers. The pain in his foot had momentarily been pushed very, very far into the back of his consciousness. But as he dared to open his eyes and met hers again, he could see past the worry right to that spark of irritation that always told him there was trouble ahead if he didn't watch out carefully now.

"Are you trying to tell me you have had a pain in your foot this entire week we have been running together?"

Clipped speech. Not a good thing. Not as bad as a mouthful of long words AND clipped speech, but still – not a good thing.

"No, uh, yeah – I mean, no, not at first, it just felt a bit sore after a day or two. Nothing like this. It's been nothing, really – this is the first time it ever really hurt. Seriously, it's not so bad now, though, probably just twisted it."

He was babbling, and he knew it. And what was more: she knew it, too. But it was also the truth – it really hadn't hurt like this before now. Maybe he'd really stepped on something to set it off. It wasn't like he had been paying attention to anything other than her – _yeah, so what if I can't stop staring at her while she's running _- whilst trying to keep up with her pace.

"Finn!"

She stood there, her hands on her hips by now, her dark eyes flashing with annoyance. He knew he should feel a little bit more concerned about all this, but seriously – it wasn't as if it hurt just now anyway, he was fine just standing there, and all he could do was think about how much he just wished he could kiss those lips. Without thinking, he held out his hand, ran it up her arm, then took a step forward –

This time the pain shot up his leg like lightning from his foot that literally felt like it was burning up from some internal fire. It was so bad it made his eyes tear up. "Oww… shit!" he said, this time no longer caring if she heard.

But if she had it didn't matter – the next moment she was holding him close, her arms wrapped around his waistline, her head buried against his chest, another – muffled – outcry of his name carrying nothing of that annoyance anymore. When the pain abated – which it seemed to do whenever he'd just hold his foot still and didn't put any weight on it – he found himself stroking her back in calming circles, feeling slightly amused that she'd be so affected by his injury.

He looked down at her at the same moment she looked up at him. They always seemed to do that kind of thing. It was a bit weird, but in a magical sort of way, he thought. And just as with all the other times that had happened before, his heart did this thing where it felt like it was about to leap out of his chest.

This was the closest he'd been to her in the two weeks since Regionals; they'd both agreed they'd take things very slowly after hitting that small snag a week ago, but it was killing him not to be able to even just kiss her – he just couldn't take it any longer.

"You need to get this looked at," she said, quietly, her eyes swallowing his.

"Uh huh," he replied, and bent a little lower towards her.

"We should get you to a hospital," she said, her voice barely audible.

"Yeah," he said, as his hands stopped circling her shoulder blades and moved to the back of her head instead.

"Now….," she whispered, as his lips brushed against hers.

"Mhmmm," he replied, a sound that came straight from his heart and seemed to find an echo in hers as she melted into his embrace and started kissing him back.

. . . . .

_A/N #2: Okay, so this is going to be more of a three-shot. There's more to come._


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: __Thank you for all the reviews and alerts – it's like instant gratification to come home after three hours and find my mailbox full of notifications! I'm glad everyone thinks I've captured Finn well – that's pretty much all I'm good at these days (you wouldn't believe the conversations he has with me in my head sometimes – he's gotten very good at convincing me to continue driving to work in the mornings instead of turning around and going back home). I've had this story on my mind for a few days and it was originally only planned as a one-shot – not quite sure how it ended up getting a bit longer._

_Hope this will keep you satisfied, even if it's more angsty than fluffy. I promise the next one will be delightfully fluffy again _

. . . . . . . . .

"How much longer do they expect us to wait?"

He'd never known how impatient she could really get. They'd only been waiting half an hour – by his standards, that wasn't a long time to wait for anything in a hospital, especially not after you'd already been looked at and poked at and everything. But then perhaps she'd not had as many opportunities to get to see the inside of one as he'd had; he'd been here at least five or six times in his life so far, for various reasons. Broken bones, mostly. Stitches from when he'd had the bike accident when he was still in kindergarden. And once to have his appendi-something removed. The last one didn't really count, it hadn't been a short visit; but all the other times he could remember sitting there for hours and hours before anyone had ever looked at him.

She'd been pacing the little space next to his him for what seemed an eternity. The look on her face wasn't nearly as annoyed as her voice made it seem, and he knew there was something else behind it.

He held out his hand and stopped her as she walked by him, grabbing her by the elbow.

"Come here," he said, and pulled her closer until she stood right in front of him between his legs. Their heads were level now that he was sitting on the examination bed; but instead of meeting his eyes she looked down. "Rach, come on," he said, unable to keep his amusement out of his voice. "what ever this is, it's not your fault. So stop beating yourself up about it."

As her head came up, the eyes that met his confirmed his suspicions, misery and guilt written in them so thickly that they seemed to overflow with it. No sooner had she looked at him – _his heart plummeting, aching, wanting nothing more than to take everything sad from her_ – than she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around him with a sob as she buried her face against the crook of his neck.

He felt shaken. It was at the same time terrifying and amazing that she would react like this. Unsure of what else to do or say, he enveloped her in his arms and laid his head against hers, just glad to feel her closeness and hoping it would have the same soothing effect on her as it had on him. After one week of staying at arm's length, being able to hold her felt great.

But instead of calming down, her sobs just grew harder, until her entire body was shaking in his embrace. It bewildered him – was she still crying about his foot? Or was it something else? He reached up one hand and patted the back of her head.

"Rach?" he whispered nervously, and realised that her crying was slowly making him freaked out. But she gave no sign of having heard him, even.

Before he could do anything else – not that he knew what – a noise alerted him to someone else's presence. He'd been so wrapped up in Rachel's distress that he hadn't even noticed the door opening. Dr. Noaman was standing in the doorframe, looking at them with an amused expression, his hand still on his throat after having cleared it so noisily. "Should I come back later?"

Rachel let go of him so quickly and completely that all he could do was blink in confusion as she stepped back, her head cast down, her face hiding behind a curtain of hair. She simply stood there at his side, a few feet away, her arms folded in front of her chest as if she was trying to hold on to herself. He stared at her in utter bewilderment. It hadn't been more than a couple of minutes since she'd been all annoyed impatience, and now she was this… crying mess? Why?

It was a puzzle, and one he couldn't solve right now, with the doctor standing in the same room as them. So he switched his attention to him.

"Uh… no, sorry about that," he said, feeling embarrassed.

For another moment the doctor looked from him to Rachel and back again, still with that same amused smile, then he advanced further into the room and took a seat behind his desk. The smile slowly vanished as the doctor looked into the papers lying in front of him, and it made way to a more sombre expression. "Then let's get this over with, shall we? You've got what is called Achilles tendonitis, which is a condition of irritation of the large tendon in the back of the ankle that often leads to a more severe inflammation and rupture of the tendon. There is evidence of a slight inflammation in yours."

"Ah."

That didn't actually sound so bad. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Rachel wipe her eyes, then look up. To his surprise the look on her face was oddly grim, which he found only more puzzling.

"How does one incur Achilles tendonitis?" she asked, her voice unnaturally strong after all the crying she'd done just moments ago. There was a weird tone to it that he couldn't quite place.

The doctor seemed to find the sudden change in her equally surprising and looked at her for a moment before turning his attention back to Finn. "You said you had been running at the onset of the pain. Do you do this on a daily basis?"

"Yeah, sort of." Coach Tanaka had always made them run laps for practise, so it could be called daily. And he'd really been running daily for the last week. "I mean, at school I did it regularly, and for the last week we went running every day."

Dr. Noaman nodded his head, looking down at the papers again, then looked back up at him and steepled his fingers together over the file. "See, Finn, this kind of injury is fairly common with athletes. It usually can occur if you change your training schedule by increasing the difficulty or distance. Sometimes it can even be caused by a simple change in footwear."

"We ran uphill a lot," Rachel said, very matter-of-factly. He eyed her again, and reached out to take her hand. Her fingers slipped between his but there was not the slightest bit of reaction when he squeezed hers, hoping to get her to do the same back.

The doctor looked from her to Finn again, and nodded once more. "If you are not used to running uphill, then doing that would be a very probable cause to your injury."

Something about her line of conversation had bothered him all along but as he listened to the doctor's last reply it finally struck him: she was really blaming herself for all this! And Dr. Noaman had just played right into her hands with his reply.

Shit.

"Rach, you-" he began, grabbing her hand with his other hand, too, but she slipped her fingers out of his grasp entirely.

"How is this curable?" she interrupted him, her voice deceptively detached.

For the first time during the entire conversation the doctor addressed her directly instead of Finn. "He's going to have to abstain from any further running or any exercise that will put a strain on his foot. The tendon is inflamed, and he will have to take some medication for this."

As if he was only now realising that he wasn't actually talking to his patient, Dr Noaman turned back to Finn with a serious face. "While I know any walking is going to hurt in the beginning, you will have to keep that foot mobile to a certain point. You will have to walk on it; but if you ice it and take your anti-inflammatory medication you should be fine. But no more than just light exercise until the inflammation has gone back, and you're going to have to be careful afterwards."

As he listened to the doctor's advice, a terrible realisation finally hit Finn. The one thing he'd pushed aside all this time, hadn't even thought of until now because he'd been too engrossed with Rachel – the one thing that she probably hadn't forgotten, and had just added to whatever else she was blaming herself for: his job. The summer job he was supposed to start in two days - the job that was going to need him on a bike, cycling all over town to deliver messages and stuff. Was he going to be able to do that?

Consternation written clearly on his face, Finn asked, "how about cycling? I'm to start a job in two days as a bike messenger…?"

The doctor shook his head. "Not at the speed and the hours that kind of job brings with it, Finn. As I said, you have to take it slowly."

He swallowed hard. Didn't want to believe it. What was he going to do?

"Thank you, Dr. Noaman," he heard Rachel say next to him, and felt more than saw her move forward. She took his hand, pulled him off the bed he was sitting on. He barely registered any of it.

His worry about Rachel, all the other distractions – they'd just faded into the background suddenly. How could he have forgotten about the job? It'd been Burt who'd arranged it all for him, got him the interview with one of his garage clients, seen him off to the actual thing with all kinds of helpful advice – and who'd cheered with him when he got the call that he'd got the job. He'd been so stoked about it. His first proper job, earning money – not just a couple of bucks an hour like he had at Sheets'n'Things. And now? He couldn't do it.

Finn shook the doctor's proffered hand automatically, said "Thank you" when given the prescription and "Goodbye" when leaving, but it was Rachel who got him out of that office, walking down that hallway, into the elevator, across the lobby, across the car park, to his car. He didn't even feel the pain in his foot, even though it was there, an insistent burning sensation by now. It wasn't until she'd seen to him getting into the passenger seat of his car and she'd climbed in behind the steering wheel that he snapped out of the daze.

Because that was when she started crying again. Startled out of his reverie by the noise of her sobbing, he looked at her. She didn't even bother to hide it this time; she threw herself against him, her arms around his neck, buried her face against his chest and cried until her entire body shook with the sobs. Once again, all he felt able to do was to hold her and wait until this would subside, until she'd calm down enough to speak – but this time he also needed some time. Time to digest this whole thing, to figure out what to say. Figure out how to get her to stop feeling she was to blame.

So they just sat there. After a while he pulled her arm down from around her neck and simply held her hand in his, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. The sobbing turned to sniffling.

"Rach?" He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. "Please don't blame yourself. None of this is your fault, I told you before."

She pulled away from him but didn't let go of his hand. When she met his eyes hers were red-rimmed and puffy and all he could think of was how much he truly loved her.

"It's not that. I – please hear me out – " she began, and stopped him from trying to object by freeing her hand and putting her index finger against his lips. She dropped her hand after a second and let it rest right on top of his heart as she continued. "Finn, I am sorry. Not just about this whole mess – yes I am to blame, at least a little, you can't deny that, if I hadn't been so adamant about taking things slowly you would not have been so insistent on accompanying me on my runs just to spend more time with me. And I deliberately chose harder routes than usual, too, because I got it into my head that I had to punish you somehow."

He slipped his free hand over hers, clutching it to his heart as if he could somehow make her stop talking with that. He didn't actually want to revisit the conversation they had that day a week ago. Just thinking about it made him a little sick to his stomach. But the plea in her eyes kept him from trying to stop her.

"Being in that doctor's office – suddenly all I could see was us in that other doctor's office."

He stared at her, feeling the blood rush to his head. He'd been so bold that day, so desperate to make her feel something other than scared.

"I remembered the look in your eyes when I told you that I still had feelings for Jesse, that he still cared about me."

He remembered that, too. Vividly. And even now, after everything was said and done, it still hurt a little bit.

"I remember feeling scared. But I convinced myself then that I was scared of losing him – when all along the only thing I truly was scared of was admitting how much I- how much you meant to me."

He blinked. Hard.

"It was hurt pride that pushed me into his arms, and when he was gone I realised that. But last week…." She broke off, cast her eyes down with such sadness that he felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest.

A single tear rolled down her cheek and he stared at it, following it with his eyes, mesmerized. He found he wasn't capable of saying anything, or even trying to think.

But then she looked up, looked right into his eyes, and there was a glimmer of something in hers that made him shiver, inside and out. Butterflies in his stomach didn't even come close.

"Just now, there, in the doctor's office I realised I almost made the same mistake again last week. You had as much reason to be upset as I was – we both lied to each other. But I just saw my own hurt and disappointment, and never really considered yours. Again."

Before he knew what was happening, she was suddenly on his lap, her lithe body straddling his knees. Her hands now both on his chest, she looked into his eyes and there was something new in her eyes that made his heart leap in his chest. He was sure she had felt it, too, for the next moment a smile blossomed on her face: that smile, the special smile, the one she only had for him.

"I love you, Finn."

And just like that, nothing else mattered anymore. Not his injured foot, not the job he'd lose because of it, nor any of the heartache he'd gone through for the past months. It was only her, and him, and what was between them.

"I love you, Rachel," he said, his voice raw with emotion as he leaned forward to kiss her.

But she pulled back. "You're sort of my Achilles heel, you know?"

He looked at her, taken aback. "Uhm… what?"

The smile she gave him was glorious in all its cuteness. "My weak spot. I'll explain later."

She was still smiling when their lips touched.

. . . . . . .

_A/N: No, this isn't the end, there's still one more__ to come so bear with me._


	3. Chapter 3

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. I just play with it.**_

_A/N: My hearty apologies for the loooooooooooong wait. I'm just finishing up my last days at school and the last few weeks have been extreme. I've been wanting to write so much but whenever I'd have a moment to sit down and do so I encountered a mind that was suddenly swept empty of all creativity. Being a teacher can literally suck you dry, I guess. _

_This is not the final chapter. Rather, this is what happened when I sat down to write the finale and let the story just take me along. After three pages I'd still not got to the actual plot, but it was too pretty to simply delete again so here you go: a filler chapter to tide you over to the "grand finale"._

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

**Chapter 3**

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"So what do you think?" he asked, and nervously chewed on his bottom lip.

Rachel had made herself comfortable between his legs, her entire body resting against his as they half lay, half sat on his bed. He held her in a close embrace into which she'd somehow entwined her own hands while letting her head rest against his arm. It should have been weird – even when they'd dated the first time around they'd never really been so close, or their bodies touching so much – but it felt oddly natural. They'd kissed when she'd come in, and while kissing her had been everything he'd been looking forward to over the last three lonely days, some instinct, some weird intuition that he seemed to have developed around her in recent months told him that she needed something else from him. There'd been something about the angle of her shoulders, the shape of her eyebrows, the quality of the sparkle in her eyes – he had no idea when he'd started to notice such small details about her that he'd be able to tell her mood or needs by a tiny difference like this, but he'd simply taken her hand and led her to his bed, sat himself down and pulled her along without saying a word. And she'd melted into his embrace as if they'd never done anything else. They'd not said a word since that first rather shy mutual "hi".

A strand of hair was hiding her eyes from his sight; he had no idea whether she had her eyes open or simply sat there dreaming to herself, but her silence spoke volumes. And just as she seemed to have found comfort in silence, he found himself filled with a near-irrepressible need to say something, anything. The colour scheme in this new room of his had been – after some mental groping for a suitable topic – what had finally come to him as a good conversation starter.

"It's nice," he heard her mumble, and she turned her head a little to take in their surroundings. So she'd really not paid attention to that before; he wasn't assuming enough to believe she'd simply basked in his presence, so this uncharacteristic behaviour was making him more than just a little tense. "Very austere compared to your old room."

He took a guess she meant dull and boring by that; contrary to Kurt's suggestions he'd chosen to paint the room's walls a simple light blue, and decorated them with no more than two things: a framed picture of his dad that he'd brought along from his previous home (baby Finn being held by his dad in full uniform) and a poster of Steve Perry. He had another - empty - picture frame sitting behind his desk, but he didn't have a picture for it yet.

The room – double in size to what his old room had been – was on the top floor of the house and had a roof window, underneath which he'd put his dad's old recliner. He'd taken to watching the stars at night from that recliner, and spent plenty of hours during the last three nights doing just that instead of any of the other activities he'd usually indulged in. It'd helped him think. Other than that, his new room was occupied by his bed, a nightstand, a shelf for his school books and games, his – new – computer desk and a flat-screen mounted on the wall opposite his bed. It wasn't much, but he liked it this way. But maybe it needed an explanation – he didn't know; but he gave her one anyway: "Kurt was a bit grumpy that I didn't pick one of his themed ideas but honestly, after looking at brown cowboys ever since I can remember this is kinda nice. And sort of peaceful."

He tried to hide his rising tension as she failed to respond further. Could this still be about his injury, somehow? Was she still feeling guilty about that, maybe? Or was it something else? After another moment he felt her chest rise as she took a deep breath – and almost instantly his heartbeat increased, his chest constricting in panic as for that single moment he felt absolutely, terrifyingly sure that she had come to her senses and was going to end this thing between them after all.

But then she merely sighed. Quietly. And rubbed her head against his arm. "I missed you," was what she said. He tried to release the breath he'd held without making it too obvious, slowly exhaling until his chest hurt from the physical strain of not letting her catch him at it. "I wish we could have done this every day."

If he was honest he had no idea why they hadn't been able to, but every time he'd asked her to meet him in the last three days she'd turned him down, claiming she was still too busy. He wouldn't have been so nervous about all this if it hadn't been for her almost careless attitude, he realised. Especially in light of the fact that she was going to be gone for three weeks soon, anyway.

"So what were you so busy with, anyway?" She'd dodged any attempt of his to ask her about that. "Can you finally tell me now?"

He didn't know how it was possible to do so but he literally felt her shrink within his grasp. And then, suddenly, she let go of his arms – turned completely around in his embrace until she was facing him, and slung her arms around his neck. Her eyes looked up into his and set his core on fire with the ferocity of the emotions that overcame him then. But it only lasted a second, then she pulled her eyes away and he watched her look at his lips instead. His mouth suddenly felt dry, his lips throbbing with his need to kiss her. She continued staring at them just as he stared at hers, willing her to move in closer, make the first move. But she kept her distance, and he watched those red lips of hers open and close, looking so incredibly kissable that he completely missed what she was saying to him. It was only after a few more seconds, when she pressed them together in a thin line, that he came out of the momentary daze and looked up. A slow blush crept over his face, realising he'd missed something she'd said judging by the bemused expression on the rest of her face. "Errr.. sorry?"

"I said I tried to find you a job."

"What? ? ?" He stared at her, unable to move past the surprise of her statement.

She looked into his eyes, and he didn't think he could love her anymore than he did just then. "I did, but it is truly futile to find anything so late that doesn't involve manual labour. I'm sorry Finn…"

And then, to his great consternation, she broke out in tears. Immediately, his hands left her back and cupped her face as he leant forward and kissed her. Touched his lips to hers, smothering them with his love for her, then letting them wander upwards along the trail of tears on her left cheek. He wiped her right cheek with his hand, mumbling hotly against her skin, "Rach…" – kiss- "…Rach…" –kiss- "…don't cry…" – kiss- "… it's okay…" –kiss- "…Rach, please…" –kiss- "…it'll be fine." He kissed away the moist tears from her eyelashes as she'd closed her eyes underneath the touch of his lips.

"I cost you your job," she replied, between sobs, and pulled his head down to lean her forehead against his. "I had to do something to make up for it, but I didn't-" –sniff- "-think it would be that difficult!"

The way she talked just then, the way her voice sounded so naked, so small… so utterly, totally adorable… he didn't know if it was possible to love her anymore than he did, but this fragile, vulnerable Rachel face he was holding in his hands just did something entirely different to him. At that moment, he would have walked through fire, swum through an entire ocean or done any number of stupidly impossible feats for her. He wished he could simply wrap her up, meld into her so she could feel how he felt; feel the extent of his love, his gratitude, his awe at what she'd been trying to do for him, and know that it wasn't necessary even if it was wonderful that she'd want to do something like that for him.

There were no words. He simply pulled her chin up towards him and kissed those lips again, and for the first time since they'd ever kissed, dared show the passion he felt for her in his heart: pressing his lips to hers, he nipped with his tongue at the opening of her mouth, and his heart almost stopped when he felt her tongue meet his. Running his hands into her hair, he pulled her even closer, and their tongues began a dance around each other that felt entirely familiar in spite of doing this for the very first time. If he needed to breathe, it was forgotten, all he could think of was the sweet taste of her mouth, the warmth of her breath, the feel of her lips pressing against his, the raging fire in his very core.

They broke apart, driven by the need to breathe, each of them gasping for air but still not letting go of each other. He closed his eyes against the touch of her fingers running through his hair, and heard her give a little moan as his thumb went to softly graze her swollen lips.

"Rach…," he said, fighting for some semblance of control over himself. He just wanted to go on kissing her like that, but he was terribly afraid he'd take it too far – push her too far, too soon. Taking comfort in her closeness, he leant his forehead against hers like she had done before. "I love you." He kept his eyes firmly closed, willing himself not to look at her because right then he knew he'd be lost if he did. "We've been through this – you've nothing to feel guilty about. So don't you dare say you cost me my job."

He knew her stubbornness, though. She'd convinced herself of her blame, and it hadn't left her ever since. She'd just wasted three entire days on trying to get him something, and that was more than anyone had ever done for him – he couldn't shrug it that off so negligently.

Still locked in the same pose, he whispered, "you know, maybe it'll all be alright?" A smile played around his lips as the simple words brought him back to what had probably started them off in the first place. Once upon a time. A long time ago, it seemed now.

He heard her chuckle, and opened his eyes. Pulling away, he stroked the side of her neck with his thumb as his hand ran one last time through her hair, then he took her hand firmly into his free one. "Come downtown with me, Rach? I've got an errand to run."

She nodded in reply, a tentative smile replacing the stricken look her face had worn before they kissed. "I'd like that."

As they got off the bed and she helped him limp down the stairs, he felt his own happiness fade in the face of the event that was looming ever nearer in his mind. How was he ever going to survive three weeks without her?

But she didn't see it. By the time she looked back into his face when they'd reached his car, he'd made sure to wear a happy smile on his face. Despairing about it was restricted to those lonely nights staring up into space from his dad's recliner. They still had four days until she'd have to leave – and he was going to make them count.

"Right – first stop: ice cream for both of us."

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_A/N: I hope you like it. As I said, it's basically a fluffy filler chapter. But even so, I'd love to get some feedback about this – reviews are greatly appreciated!_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Disclaimer: Glee's not mine. Otherwise I wouldn't be as poor as I am at the moment.**_

_**A/N: **__**Okay, so this story has apparently decided that it did not need me anymore. Finn and Rachel have taken over and I'm merely there to hold the pen. I have given up plotting the storyline because Finn and Rachel clearly do not want me to end this so fast but would rather enjoy that time they have with each other. So I've no idea how many chapters this will have, but I am HOPING no more than 6. I do hope it's still enjoyable, and in character.**_

_**Oh, and I dedicate this to my Beta, Eera (better known as i-am-a-dork, whose birthday it is today) - because ultimately she was the one who convinced me that letting Finchel take the reigns was not a bad thing.**_

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Chapter 4

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Right opposite the ice cream vendor, hidden away in a corner, was something that caught Finn's attention almost immediately: a photo booth As Rachel was still taking her sweet time discussing what flavours she could actually have that were truly vegan, he simply stood there for a few moments, trying to make up his mind whether he should ask her now or later. It might be more fun with them both still eating their ice creams, but on the other hand – deep down he knew he wanted something different. Something more serious. Something on a grander, more epic scale than silly mug shots.

"How is yours?" she asked when he turned around finally, having made up his mind to just go for it. Today was all about having fun, after all – he'd promised it to himself that she wouldn't spend a moment more on thinking about negative things. So he wouldn't either.

"'s okay," he replied, even though he hadn't even tried it and she could see it – the ice cream was wobbling dangerously on top of the cone, melting so fast that it was running in little streams down the side of the cone.

Noticing it threatening to run over his hand, he quickly licked it off, then took the top scoop off almost completely in one bite. It wasn't until he'd gulped down half of what was in his mouth that he saw her incredulous look. Swallowing the rest, he gave her a lopsided grin before saying with a shrug, "what? It was going to end up on the floor otherwise."

And just to show her that he knew better, he licked off a small bit of the remaining ice cream with a flick of his tongue, still grinning at her.

For a moment he watched her as she followed the movement of his tongue; suddenly it was as if they were playing a game to which neither of them knew the rules. The colour rose to his face as he felt her eyes on him, but he didn't stop grinning – in fact, it made him feel bolder than he had before. She blushed, too, but continued to stare at his tongue licking at the ice cream. Absent-mindedly she nipped at her own ice cream cone, her eyes wandering up to his. He smirked - knowing they were both thinking of the same thing. She cast her eyes down, and grinned back. Looked sideways. Looked back at him. And then both of them broke out in a fit of giggling that several people around them turned and stared at them, but neither of them cared. Then Finn's cone crumbled in his grasp, which made Rachel burst out anew as he stuffed the entire thing into his mouth and puffed up his cheeks as he was chewing.

"So how," he said, chuckling to himself, when he'd swallowed the cone, "is yours?"

Putting on her most dramatic face she held out her cone in front of her, looked at it for a second as if she was contemplating life itself, and then said in her best imitation of Finn's own voice: "It totally sucks."

He snorted out a laugh as she walked over to the next trash can and unceremoniously dumped the whole thing in there. As she looked back to him her face contorted, and then they were both off, laughing so hard he ended up holding on to her shoulder to keep from falling over – which made her stagger sideways and bump against the booth. With a sharp intake of air, she held on to her shoulder with her other arm, and scrunched up her face to bite her lip from the momentary pain.

At once, he was all over her, had his arms around her before she even had time to react, and pressed her head to his chest. "Sorry," he mumbled and closed his eyes, feeling awful at his clumsiness hurting her.

"Finn!" he heard her say, her voice a weird squeaking thing that he couldn't quite place for a moment, and then she boxed him in the ribs – softly. "I need to breathe!" she hissed, and he released her, horrified of having crushed her and hurt her further.

But instead of her retreating from him all he got was two arms snaking around his waist and a face that looked up at him with the most adoring smile – a smile that seemed to fuse all his brain cells together so he lost all power of thought other than of her. A smile that gave him the feeling of his insides being tickled by a hundred thousand butterfly wings all at once. A smile that made the blood in his veins rush into his head until he swore he could hear it like a roaring river inside his ears. Only one thing was louder, and that was the beating of his heart. He leant forward and pressed his lips to hers, his hands running from her neck slowly to the back of her head, threading them through her long hair. For a moment he felt a little unsure of himself at her lack of reaction, but then her own hands were pressing into his back, pulling him closer.

This time it was her who initiated what came next – it was her tongue which met his, snaked around his just like her arms had around his body earlier, daring him to into a dance that was totally unfamiliar but totally exhilarating. As her fingers were moving in circles on his back – dipping lower with every one, pulling up his shirt as they were, her little finger already touching the bare skin right above his pants – it felt as if he was about to fall to pieces, as if he could barely contain- MAILMAN!

With a grunt, he pushed himself away from her, but by the look in her eyes she'd already noticed what was up – literally. He saw the shock in them as she stared at him when he held her at half an arm's length away from him, hands still around her neck – and he couldn't help but feel like a total moron for messing this up again. "Rach, I just-"

He just what? He didn't really know what to say, or how to explain this. How did one explain something this embarrassing to one's girlfriend?

But the look in her eyes turned from shock to something else – something he didn't quite know how to take. She smiled up at him.

"You know…" she began, and seemed to falter. He watched her eyes move from his eyes down to his crotch, linger there for a moment before moving up to meet his eyes again. He'd turned beet-red. "You know, this is perfectly normal. You shouldn't feel bad about having this…. ah… kind of reaction when you're with me."

And before he could do anything, she'd stepped forward again and wrapped her arms around him once more, looking up at him with a shy smile. "It's actually really flattering to think that I can make you have an e-e-erection."

If she'd said that last word any louder, it would've been a shout.

His eyes almost glazed over. He could swear his ears were on fire – she didn't just say what she'd said, right? The ground beneath his feet seemed to want to buckle and give way and he fought for control over his body with every fibre of his being; he had no way of responding to her because it took all he had to concentrate on not jizzing himself right there and then, in full public view. "Ahh… Rach…?" he finally managed to croak, needing desperately to sit down somewhere and get out of her embrace that was all too tight for comfort.

"What?" she asked, her voice hiding a giggle as she turned a shade of red similar to his own face's current colour.

He looked at her imploringly, willing her to somehow understand that this was not helping, that she was only making it harder – _don't think of that, don't even use that word, shit, this is bad, this is BAD_ – and whispered, "…sit?"

His throat felt so dry the rest of the sentence hadn't even managed to get out. She was still only looking up at him, and while it wasn't as if their bodies were touching all the way, he still could feel the extreme proximity of her shoulder to his… _erection_.

He tried again. "We're in the mall… many people… embarrassing… need to sit down somewhere? Please?"

She'd literally jumped away from him the moment he'd croaked out the word "people" so the rest of that sentence had at least been easier to get out. For a moment he watched her look left and right, her face taking on another, deeper shade of red as the realisation dawned on her that she'd totally lost track of where they were. So had he been – until she'd said _that word_ a little too loudly, and made him acutely aware of _all_ the aspects of his predicament. But it only took her a moment to work out what had to be done – and five seconds later he found himself pushed backwards into the booth, flailing as he tried not to miss the stool: But that he did – it'd been too much of a surprise to see how much strength she really had as she was pushing him, and so he found himself sailing right over the small round chair and crashing against the back of the booth with a resounding crack.

"Jeez, Rach," he mumbled, frowning, after a long moment of just sitting there and staring up at her. "Next time, warn me." Her dark eyes looked like they were drinking him up.

"Owww." He rubbed the back of his head. It didn't really hurt – his back hurt a bit, and his foot, but nothing bad. Her eyes changed to instant concern, her face set in a horrified mask that he'd last seen during their ridiculous scene in that Run Joey Run video, when her character was about to die. And then he couldn't hold his frown in place any longer – it was just that funny.

"At least that's taken care of that little problem," he said, then stared at the iron pole of the seat that was mounted on the floor right between his thighs. "'Seem to have found a larger problem, tho."

He grinned up at her, the corners of his mouth twitching with suppressed laughter. It should have been embarrassing to say stuff like that to her, but it wasn't. Maybe she was getting to him. Her eyes grew impossibly large, and for a moment he thought she was going to lash out at him for behaving like an idiot, then she began to chuckle. And a second later they were both off again, howling with laughter.

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**A/N#2: ****Yes, this is totally gratuitous fluffy filling in between serious chapters.**

**By the way, thank you all for the lovely reviews – it feels great to see people like what I'm writing, because half the time I'm not so sure myself. Keep 'em coming, especially at this stage, because I feel awfully vulnerable now that I've left the plotted course. I'll try to talk some sense into Finchel so we can have some more seriousness in the next chapter.**


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